


Cosa Nostra

by MadameMare



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: AU, F/M, minor Jassandra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:52:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMare/pseuds/MadameMare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eve wanted to scream in frustration as the loud beeping from the apartment complex’s fire alarm blared through her dark apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cosa Nostra

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: It’s 3am and the fire alarm in our apartment complex just went off, let me lend you my jacket while we wait on the sidewalk AU.

XXXX  
  
  
“You have got to be freaking kidding me!” Eve wanted to scream in frustration as the loud beeping from the apartment complex’s fire alarm blared through her dark apartment. “Third damn time this week,” she continued her angry muttering, jamming her feet into her sneakers and pulling on her jacket before exiting her apartment. She filed down the hall with the other annoyed tenants and exited into the cold night air. A quick glance at her watch revealed the time, three o’clock in the morning. She let out a long sigh, already imagining the amount of coffee that she would need to get her day going in two short hours.  
  
“Does this always happen?”  
  
Eve jumped, so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the man next to her. She turned towards him, taking him in. His flannel pajama pants were decorated with what looked to be ancient Egyptian symbols, and his t-shirt (she was slightly alarmed by his lack of outerwear) had an image of Robert E. Lee on it with the caption Most Likely To Secede Class of 1825 underneath.  
  
“Didn’t used to, but this is the third time this week it’s happened,” she replied, wondering why she didn't recognize him.  
  
“Flynn Carsen,” he offered his hand. “I just moved in last week. I started working as a Historian at the National Museum of American History. I was living in California, but I couldn't pass up the job opportunity. It is definitely a bit cooler here then back home,” he rambled.  
  
She shook his hand, wincing at his icy fingers. “Eve Baird, Metro-PD,” she introduced herself. “I actually work over at the museum. I’m surprised I haven't seen you.”  
  
Flynn’s eyes lit up at that information, excited at the prospect of a friendly face in a new environment. “I’m usually in the back, prepping artifacts for new exhibits,” he explained, blowing warm breath into his cupped, shaking hands.  
  
She felt bad, and she wasn’t _that_ cold anyway. Plus, she was dressed a little more sensibly that he was, with her hooded thermal pajama top. After a slight internal argument with herself, she shrugged off her jacket and handed it to him, “Here, you need it more that I do.”  
  
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Flynn tried to hand it back to her.  
  
She refused, seeing the goosebumps pebbling his skin, and the reddish hue his nose and fingers were taking on. “I’ll be fine,” she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly acutely aware that she was not wearing a bra.  
  
“Ok, thanks,” Flynn said gratefully, pulling on the leather jacket, still warm from her body.  
  
Eve was happy to find out that Flynn was a gentleman, and if he noticed her awkwardly folded arms, did nothing to give it away, and his eyes never left her face.  
  
“So, you’re a Historian? Working on anything interesting?”  
  
“Oh yes! Right now I am putting together an exhibit on the history of mob crime in Las Vegas. It’s really fascinating,” he launched into an explanation of what was going into the display.  
  
“Wait, you have the actual slugs from Bugsy Siegal’s body? Eve asked incredulously.  
  
“Yep, and the car that Angelo Bruno was killed in.”  
  
“No shit,” Eve shook her head in wonder.  
  
“I’m in negotiation to have the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre Wall be sent to us on loan too,” he added.  
  
“Wow, Flynn, that’s amazing.” Eve wasn’t much for history, but, if you throw crime in with history, that was much more her speed. “I’ll have to come see it when you’re finished.”  
  
“You can stop by any time if you want to check it out as is,” Flynn offered.  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Of course. It’s better to hear someone tell you about the exhibit rather than reading the information off a plaque anyway.”  
  
“Thanks Flynn, that would be great,” she said warmly.  
  
“Hey, y’all can go back inside now,” her upstairs neighbor Jake suddenly interrupted their exchange as he walked passed, his redheaded wife bundled up to the nines under his arm.  
  
Eve glanced around to see the sidewalk emptying out, and the firetrucks pulling away from the complex. She was shocked that she had been so wrapped up in her conversation with Flynn that she failed to notice anything else.  
  
They were the last two to head inside and Eve was surprised when he indicated that he also lived on the first floor. She hadn’t noticed anyone moving in on her floor recently, but then again, she had worked a lot of overtime the past few weeks and wasn't home much.  
  
“Hey, um, do you want to maybe, if you don’t have usual plans, maybe grab lunch together one day? And I can show you the exhibit,” he fumbled over his words as he handed her back her jacket in front of her door.  
  
Eve smiled at his awkward fumbling. It was kind of cute, she had to admit. _He_ was kind of cute. “I’d love to,” she replied.  
  
“Good. That's great. So I’ll look for you, or you can look for me, or we’ll look for each other. I’m right next door anyway,” he once again tripped over his words, and then tripped over his pajama pants.  
  
Eve bit back her laugh and once he arrived safely in front of his door she called out fondly, “Goodnight Historian.” Maybe work tomorrow wouldn’t be so bad after all.  
  
  
XXXX  
~finis~

**Author's Note:**

> Cosa Nostra means this thing of ours. Which sounds cute, but it’s a mob term for the family.


End file.
